‘Is orange more aesthetically pleasing than a grey gag?’

“3,000 words by Wednesday, Levine, for not paying attention in class.”

Mr Marksan confiscated young Stuart’s photograph. It was not, as such, pornographic but it was certainly suggestive. The very attractive young lady was bound and gagged but though her décolletage might be a little dishevelled and her blouse rather low cut, it was not something Mr Marksan could really take strong issue with young Stuart and march him to see the Head: equally it was not something he should have been examining – or showing Cooke in class.

Mr Marksan was rather amused at the punishment he had set. It was harmless enough and reflected the way he tried to treat his young students with a degree of maturity reflecting that they were no longer children: indeed were at the end of their school careers and effectively young men. The sniggers around the class suggested his choice was appreciated. It did him no harm in maintaining his reputation as a ‘cool’ teacher.

What was more, the photograph had set him thinking he might gag Miss Erikson, the school nurse that very evening with just such a knotted scarf if, that was, he could find a suitable orange piece of material. Theirs was a secret affair, made the sweeter by their love of tying up games.

As it happened, young Stuart never did write the essay. His trusty camera released him from that punishment. They were the most compromising of photographs, complete with, coincidentally, an orange scarf. The photographs were most definitely pornographic: quite different from the photograph shown in class. Long hours with the school photography club had paid off; together, that is, with an intimate knowledge of the school grounds and buildings built up over a period of years as a boarder, to say nothing of a careful eye for detail and a naturally observant nature.

The fire escape and the open window had, of course, been particularly instrumental.

Mr Marksan’s face went white when he saw the photographs expecting, instead, young Stuart’s essay. They were slipped between the blank sheets of the anticipated essay. Miss Erikson was similarly shocked. Young Stuart had them both in his power and intended to take full advantage, particularly of Miss Erikson.

It was a very quiet and worried Mr Marksan who asked Stuart the next day if he might ‘have a word with him.’

Perhaps, after all, it added a certain spice to their affair. There had been no question of either of them not acceding to Stuart’s demands. The school, and particularly the Head, would have taken a dim view of the extra marital activity. Worse, if the photographs ‘got around.’ Not that Miss Erikson was married, but the same could not be said of Mr Marksan. Exposure would have been more than unfortunate for both.

Certainly young Stuart thought Miss Erikson acquiesced in the blackmail – for that was what it was – rather more readily than Mr Marksan. He was not quite so sure about Mr Marksan and the look he gave when he handed young Stuart the key to her lodgings for the first time and said,

“I’ll be back in an hour . She – Miss Erikson – is all trussed up, as… specified.”

A look that perhaps spoke of Mr Marksan’s anger at handing over his lover to Stuart or, perhaps, simply at Stuart having got the better of him.

Stuart’s last year at school. His whole life, all of eighteen years, really spent at the school – or at least what really mattered to him. He did not count his formative years. It was the last few years when he had matured and developed serious interests and a passion for some academic subjects and for hobbies that might last a lifetime. He intended to read law at university and was working hard to get into a good university. As to hobbies: tennis, photography, swimming and a slightly odd penchant for Wild West stories.

So a fairly normal public schoolboy whose parents had deposited him at the school because they were so often posted abroad. He saw them on holidays; indeed often travelled out to see them but it was the school he had come to see as normality rather than wherever his parents happened to be living.

It was a pleasant hour or so with Miss Erikson. Not a word passed between them but undoubtedly there was a transfer of fluids. Perhaps Mr Marksan, after all, did not mind Miss Erikson ‘pre-warmed’ or found ‘sloppy seconds’ an interesting change. It was certainly what he would get: not first dibs at all. Young Stuart had no wish to watch – not at that time. Whether Mr Marksan took pleasure in the ‘sloppiness,’ or instead, carefully removed any semen from Miss Erikson or, as a further alternative, took great delight – perhaps satisfying a secret desire – in orally exploring her tender folds with ‘added seasoning,’ was his own affair.

Maybe it might assist the picture if Miss Erikson is described, so it can be fully appreciated just what a little coup young Stuart had pulled off. As her surname implied, Miss Erikson was not from the environs of Testes sarıyer escort Ballockorum School but was from Scandinavia and spoke English with a most attractive accent: not that she was able to speak at all whilst gagged.

Older than Stuart, of course, but whilst he saw her as mature she was merely early twenties. A first job abroad after training. A most pleasing and hotly contested post at a boy’s boarding school. What the English call a public school because it is open to all, subject to success in the entrance examination and the fond parents paying the not inconsiderable fees. Stuart had no reason to question her abilities as a school nurse and she was popular with the boys. His suspicion, and actually those of others, was the elderly headmaster had been more than impressed by other attributes apart from her qualifications and this had unduly affected the selection process.

Certainly her other attributes were considerable – she was a big girl – and it may well have been the headmaster had less than pure thoughts at night about her. Certainly she was decorative. The older boys decidedly thought so and Miss Erikson might have been shocked or, there again, perhaps not, by the amount of fresh young virile semen that was spilt in the dormitories and rooms of the boarders on her account. The masters and Miss Stephenson, the rather older and probable lesbian French teacher from Stevenage, undoubtedly thought so too but it was Mr Marksan who had ‘scored’ perhaps because of his accidental discovery of her penchant for bondage.

Of course she was blond and of course her skin was pale and white. Scandinavia is not famed for dark skinned people. Tall and athletic, she caused not a little disturbance on her first and subsequent outings jogging around the playing fields in her petite shorts and lightweight top just about hiding a most substantial sports bra. The brassiere or brassieres were, most certainly, more than required otherwise, as more than a few boys had commented – or sniggered, she might well get a black eye.

Miss Erikson was, in the parlance, ‘fit’ and the subject of considerable lust. Desire with no prospect of consummation – certainly for the headmaster, Miss Stephenson and, one would have thought, the boys. And yet, there was young Stuart calmly walking towards her little flatlet and bedroom with the key in hand and the prospect of enjoying her for an hour . And that was only that day! Freshly showered and with a clean shirt and underclothes he was most certainly looking forward to what he would find. Outwardly confident – certainly with Mr Marksan – internally things were a little different. He had, after all, not been with a woman before. His penis, whilst not at all inexperienced in the erection and ejaculation departments – it did the former many times a day and the latter most every day and sometimes twice – had not penetrated a woman vaginally, or otherwise. He was certainly aware there were other places to enter apart from the vagina and there was also the option of spattering pleasantly across a girl’s skin. Stuart was a virgin: Miss Erikson was not but, there again, neither would Stuart be later that afternoon! Things change.

A key in the lock, an erection in his trousers, Stuart opened the door.

What Stuart saw was not the Miss Erikson he knew. Gone was the crisply starched white uniform of the school nurse. A uniform for all its modesty that certainly aroused most immodest thoughts in the boys and no doubt the masters and caused furious speculation in the dormitories as to what knickers were hidden under the knee length white skirt. A pleasant imagining together with the happy speculation and rumour – though without any verifiable provenance – that sometimes she went ‘commando!’ Eyes followed and friends speculated at what they could not see.

The uniform was gone but Miss Erikson was not stark naked as Stuart had rather expected but in an outfit which made him swallow. Moreover she was most certainly bound and gagged as specified.

Leather, brown soft leather, has a certain eroticism. A brown leather bikini with silver studs and straps, similarly studded, joining both parts looked more than fantastic. Miss Erikson was lying on the bed looking straight up at Stuart with her eyes wide above her gagged mouth – her mouth gagged with an orange scarf, no less. Her blond hair securely tied back in a pony tail and around her neck a brown leather collar, again with the silver studs. Hanging from its front a pair of silver bells. Motionless they did not yet make a noise – the little tinkling was to come later.

Miss Erikson was lying on her front. Her big breasts squashed beneath her. Her arms were tied behind her at the wrists and these were lashed by a short length of rope to her similarly tied naked feet. Her body, in effect, forming a loop running from her curved torso up and around and down behind her, the loop following her outstretched arms to her feet esenyurt escort and then back around and up her legs to her body again. Her legs were, of course, bent back at the knees allowing hands and feet to almost meet – the ropes pulling them, perhaps within a foot of each other. She was completely helpless. Stuart stared. Miss Erikson stared back. There was nothing much else she could do except perhaps close her eyes or roll a little about on the bed. A helpless girl or woman faced with an inexperienced schoolboy with ideas.

Last time Stuart had been to see her he had been unwell. He had been running a temperature and she had taken it rectally with a thermometer up his bottom. He had been embarrassed having to take his trousers down but she had, naturally, paid no attention to his genitalia at all, had, no doubt, professionally seen rather too many to be at all fazed by such things.

It had not lessened his embarrassment but, feeling unwell, he had not found himself involuntarily rising at the touch of her fingers on his bottom, the lubrication to his anus and the cool bulb of the thermometer being slipped in. It was only later, feeling normal again, had he fantasised about her rubber clad hand becoming differently engaged in taking a semen sample – something she had not at all attempted to do that day. Indeed had not so much brushed against his penis. His imagination had visualised her masturbating his swollen and throbbing erection and making him ‘cum’ in a little plastic jar. It had become quite a favourite fantasy and with each pleasing repetition in his mind not only had he relieved a certain ‘tension’ but his imagination had added to the amount of semen squirting into the jar . The interesting ways he had imagined Miss Erikson dealing with the resulting spillage had been both pleasant and inventive. As had the rather puzzling need for him to return for regular sample taking and the ways she had taken it.

Stuart stared at the school nurse. What to do next? At some point, Stuart knew, that afternoon he was going to have to take his trousers down and reveal himself to Miss Erikson: not though, unlike his visit when unwell, simply revealing his limp dick mostly hidden by his shirt tails and seemingly ignored by Miss Erikson, but rather it firmly erected and in all its ‘glory.’ He hoped she would not laugh – not that he would know with the gag in her mouth. He thought his penis was not actually something to be ashamed of at all – certainly it seemed larger than Mr Marksan’s from what he had seen and photographed . But he had not been up close; had, of course, not measured Mr Marksan’s erection with a ruler or held his own against it in comparison.

Should he perhaps undress straightaway and approach the bound woman as nature intended?

As Stuart hesitated, unsure what to do next: it was, after all, not something within his range of experience, Miss Erikson began to move. She began to roll from side to side and then fell over on the bed as if trying to escape her bonds. It was erotic. All at once her breasts were not squashed against the bed but wobbling in front of his eyes under the leather bikini top. His eyes took in her naked tummy and the swell of her hips.

For a moment Stuart was uncertain, conscious he was in the presence of ‘authority,’ not one of the masters but the school nurse. The young woman who could normally tell him what to do – indeed tell him to take his trousers down and expect instant obedience; require him to bend over and then insert a thermometer up his bottom or perhaps a suppository or two without so much as asking his leave; until he had the photographs, she could have required him to produce a semen sample and he could not have done anything but comply. She could have stood there watching, glancing at her watch, as he masturbated. “Come on Levine,” as she tapped the specimen jar, “get on with it.” Or worse required him with several of his friends to all produce together: the ready labelled jars all lined up on the table in front of them waiting to be filled. “Hurry up boys, I haven’t all day.” Communal masturbation had not been something practised by Stuart with his friends and was not at all something he wished to do!

He was momentarily nervous and uncertain and then it came to him. He was in control – total control – Miss Erikson was there for his pleasure for the next fifty-five minutes. He was not just going to be peeking at her (and Mr Marksan) through a window and going back and masturbating to the memory later. He was going to be getting really close to Miss Erikson, was going to be able to examine her in exquisite detail, was going to be able to touch her everywhere and do things. ‘Things’ indeed! He was going to be able to fuck her and watch her as he required her to suck his cock. Stuart smiled and stepped closer. Miss Erikson was watching him.

He did not know and Mr Marksan had certainly not said, quite what Miss Erikson thought about having one of the young students avrupa yakası escort come to see her with ‘amorous’ intent. Was she lying there, or rather rolling gently, in slightly bored and unwilling resignation or was she actually excited at the idea – perhaps even turned on? A pleasant change perhaps from Mr Marksan or an interesting precursor to sex with Mr Marksan afterwards. Stuart rather thought he would know when his fingers probed her sex. He knew women got ‘wet’ but he did not know how ‘wet.’ It would be rather good if she was indeed ‘wet;’ he preferred the idea of her turned on rather than simply resigned to being used. He knew, or was fairly sure, that resignation was the case with Mr Marksan – indeed angry submission to the blackmail.

Perhaps he should have required Mr Marksan’s presence; really revelled in his power over them; required Mr Marksan to be bound naked to a chair to watch Stuart both toy with and then inseminate his lover. Amusing perhaps to see his teacher glowering in the corner; even more amusing if Mr Marksan’s penis stirred and became aroused – yes, him sitting there all tied up but erect and watching. The idea attractive at one level but equally Stuart did not really know if he could have performed like that – not with his teacher watching. Psychologically difficult. Perhaps another time – well, perhaps.

Perhaps instead Stuart could instruct, could have Mr Marksan do things to Miss Erikson whilst he watched and then participated. Stuart smiled; he rather liked the idea of telling Mr Marksan to withdraw and see him stand frustrated by the bed, his penis wet with Miss Erikson, as Stuart took his place inside her.

Stuart had not so much as touched Miss Erikson before. Despite having set up the whole scene he was a little nervous. It did not help that she was watching him. He knew it would be easier once he had taken the first step and placed his hand upon her. It was not that she did not excite him – he was conscious she could see how stretched his school grey flannels were. Stuart moved towards the bed. Miss Erikson rolled away from him. She had perhaps more movement than he thought.

Moving around the bed to reach her from the other side Stuart found Miss Erikson rolling away again towards the other side; able to squirm away despite her binding; her eyes not leaving Stuart’s.

Yes, Stuart needed to touch her but he had to catch her first!

He made a lunge right across the bed and his hand grabbed her left buttock. It was soft and he felt both skin and the leather of the bikini. Breathing hard he slipped his fingers under the leather right onto her bottom. In seconds he had gone from never having touched Miss Erikson to having his fingers intimate with her – in effect inside her knickers. He felt soft flesh no different really from, say, her arm but to the mind completely different.

Stuart pulled his hand back and stood panting. Just that first violation had been exciting enough. The power and control exhilarating. Not too exciting, though. His penis felt wonderfully hard and tingling but he had not been close to cumming. How awful to cum in his pants without having even done anything at all, have to slink away and tell Mr Marksan he would come – yeah, cum – another day. To see Mr Marksan’s amused grin and possibly some witty disparaging comment. It would be awful – even if there would certainly be another day.

It was difficult to tell what Miss Erikson was thinking whilst gagged. She moved again, struggling against the binding ropes. Whose idea had been the leather bikini? Had Miss Erikson felt somewhat less exposed like that to the young student coming to ‘visit’ her? Even though she would know the lad was bound to want to see what lay beneath sooner or later – probably sooner!

Stuart now had a little less than fifty-five minutes left with Miss Erikson. Time enough to cum twice but only if he got on with the first – got a move on! Tempting to let his animal instincts take over and just go for Miss Erikson. But what to do whilst he recharged for the second attempt? He thought it better to take it all slowly and enjoy her leisurely. He would, after all, have further opportunities.

His eyes alighted on a candle; thick and waxy, it was standing upright in a candlestick on a table; not deliberately phallic but certainly there was a degree of rounding to it which suggested it was not unsuitable for insertion in the female genital orifice if some sort of penis substitute was required by a woman for masturbatory purposes. Stuart wondered if perhaps Miss Erikson had used it or, perhaps during her and Mr Marksan’s bondage sessions, had Mr Marksan teased Miss Erikson with it?

It lifted easily from the rather chunky candlestick. Stuart’s eyes were on the bound woman rather than the candle as he did so. Miss Erikson’s eyes went wide. Was this play acting, mock fear, or the real thing? Was she alarmed at what he might do with the candle? She was, after all, bound and gagged, unable to resist or call out.

As he turned to look at the candle his eyes too went wide. It had appeared a perfectly normal candle but where it sat in the candlestick, hidden away from sight, the hidden end was moulded. Not blunt but the carefully moulded shape of the end of an erect penis – the knob. Undoubtedly a sexual object, an object for play.

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